


make me fall

by someonelsesheart



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 00:56:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4646364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someonelsesheart/pseuds/someonelsesheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke is in love with her best friend, Lexa's a little terrifying, and some happily ever afters don't work out the way we expect them to.</p><p>Or: the straight best friend AU that nobody asked for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	make me fall

Clarke is sixteen when she meets the Blakes.

It sounds poetic when you put it like that, and maybe it is, a little. Mrs. Nicholson (aged 89) lived at Number 19 until she moved to California with her new beau, who allegedly had lots of money and was 20 years her former.

Clarke doesn’t really pay much attention to the new family except to note this: When Mrs. Nicholson lived at 19, vines devoured the dull grey of the house, the lawn was overgrown, and for some reason the whole vicinity smelt like dead cat.

After the Blakes move in, it lights up. Flowers are planted in the front lawn. A good-looking shirtless man mows the lawn methodically every two weeks. And they find and remove the twelve dead cats Mrs. Nicholson had inexplicably buried under the lawn. Clarke didn’t even know Mrs. Nicholson had owned cats.

She doesn’t meet Octavia until two weeks later.

She’s at a party that Raven only dragged her to because she wanted a wing woman. She abandons Clarke, typically, about five minutes in. Clarke sits awkwardly on the couch for a solid half hour before she escapes out the back, finds a spot on the back porch and sits down on the step.

It’s cold enough that mist gathers when she breathes out, and the tips of her ears go numb with coldness. She takes a sip from the plastic cup in her hand and makes a face at the rough taste of beer.

The door clicks open behind her, but she doesn’t turn around until long legs fold themselves down beside her. She glances out the corner of her eye as Octavia Blake lights a cigarette and blows smoke out into the cool night air. She catches Clarke’s eye and offers her the cigarette.

Clarke shakes her head. She thinks smoking is pretty gross, really, but Octavia makes it look pretty, the way her pink lips close around the end. Clarke glances away, inexplicably feeling her cheeks heat up despite the cold.

“You’re the girl from Number 10, right?” says Octavia. 

“I’m sixteen,” says Clarke defensively, non-sequitur.

Octavia looks amused. “I wasn’t accusing you.” She proffers the hand that isn’t holding the cig. “Octavia Blake.”

 _I know who you are,_ Clarke thinks. “Clarke Griffin.” She takes the hand.

“You here alone, Clarke?”

“Came with my friend,” says Clarke, “but she left me for, uh.”

Octavia snorts and nods. “I came with Bellamy, but I don’t really fancy watching him make out with sophomores, so.”

“Bellamy?”

“My brother.”

Clarke’s eyes widen in realisation. “The hot shirtless guy who mows your lawn.” She claps her hands over her mouth. “Oh my god. I didn’t –”

Octavia laughs again. Clarke watches the way her eyes crinkle when she smiles and thinks she might be in love. “That’d probably be him, yeah. Hey, you should come ‘round sometime. It’d be nice to have some friends before senior year.”

“Yeah,” says Clarke. “I – yes, that’d be cool.”

*

Octavia is cool. Like _Cool._ Capital C cool. She doesn’t really need friends pre-senior year, since she makes enough of them once she’s started, but for some reason she keeps hanging out with Clarke and Raven anyway.

“I don’t know,” she says. “Like, it’s nice that everybody’s so cool, you know? But you guys are my best friends.”

It’s sweet, yet that one sentence haunts Clarke. _Best friends. You’re my best friends._ She doesn’t know why it bothers her so much until she wakes up in a cold sweat after dreaming that Octavia (bizarrely, dressed as a bear) went to prom with Jasper Jordan (dressed as himself, which is to say a giant fucking nerd).

“Oh no,” she tells the ceiling.

See, here’s the thing. Clarke is – well, whatever. Clarke has liked girls and boys since she realised what it meant to like someone at all, and it’s a thing. Like, a totally cool thing. Clarke has always thought girls were awfully pretty. She likes the way they look, the way they smell, the way they feel. She’s even kissed a few, but –

She’s never been in love before.

She didn’t know it’d be like _this._

And then, by some twist of fate, Octavia actually goes to prom with Jasper Jordan. She wears a beautiful gold-sequined dress, has her hair pulled back into an intricate bun, and somehow _that’s just so much worse_. Because maybe Clarke could take Octavia, the giant bear, and Jasper Jordan, the giant nerd, but she can’t take the serious realisation that Octavia kind of may actually be _into_ Jasper.

It wasn’t like she didn’t already know. She did, it was just that –

Sometimes it was easier to hope.

Maybe she gets a little too drunk and cries on Raven’s shoulder after prom. Just, you know, a few tears. That’s life, probably. 

The next morning Raven stages a one-woman intervention. "Look, you can either tell Octavia how you feel or you can move on. You're just wasting time here, Clarke. You're fermenting. Like grapes." 

"Isn't that a good thing?" 

"Like  _grapes,_ Griffin." 

*

The feelings will go away.

(The feelings don’t go away.)

*

Clarke is a big girl. She’s nineteen, she lives with her best friend, and she absolutely has her life together.

“You’re a mess,” says Raven.

Clarke tips her head against the desk. She just kind of sits like that for a moment. The TV is playing some reality TV show in the background. She thinks it might be Dr. Phil. It’s beginning to meld with reality. Clarke can’t remember the last time she slept.

“When was the last time you slept?” asks Raven.

“I’m a med student,” says Clarke. “We never sleep. We live off the air, like vampires.”

“Pretty sure vampires live off _blood,_ dumbass.”

“Oh.” Clarke considers this. “You may just be right.”

The answer is probably about forty-five hours ago. Clarke has her last final in – well, about twelve hours – and she is _so not ready._ She’s tired and Dr. Phil is telling somebody to get their shit together and she thinks _You’re right, Dr. Phil. You’re so right._

“After this,” says Clarke. “I need to finish studying for the exam. Then we can go out.”

Raven stares at her, arms crossed over her chest, for a long moment. Clarke doesn’t make eye contact, because she’s a coward. Finally, Raven lets out a sigh and says, “Fucking _fine,_ Griffin. But Octavia’s been texting me, wants to go to some party tomorrow right to scope out this guy she’s interested in. You better be game.”

“Great,” says Clarke, staring hard at the diagrams on the page. “Greeeeat. I love parties. And helping Octavia find love. My two favourite things.”

Raven is silent for a moment, then she shakes her head and leaves. Clarke hears the door slam shut.

“You are still holding on to the past,” says the TV, “even though _she’s_ moved on!”

Yeah, whatever. Suck a dick, Dr. Phil.

*

Clarke is a woman of her word. When she gets out of her final at 4pm, she obediently goes, bleary-eyed, back to her dorm. She has a two hour powernap, a brisk shower, and is ready to go by 7pm. She’s even wearing clothes. _Nice_ clothes.

Raven meets her outside the dorm building, looks at her for a moment and says, “Alright. You look reasonable, Griffin.”

Clarke shoots her an unimpressed look. The party’s only about fifteen minutes’ walk, at the city summer house of one of Octavia’s rich friends or something, so they bundle up against the cold and set off.

“Whose party is this, anyway?” Clarke rubs her hands together. “You never clarified.”

“Remember the guy Octavia’s interested in? Yeah, this is his. His name is Lincoln.” Raven imitates Octavia, clutching her hands to her chest, “He’s in her _art_ class. He’s _cultured._ ”

“Octavia would kick your ass if she heard that.”

“Good job she won’t, huh, Griffin?” Raven grins. “Maybe _you_ can actually get some tonight, you nerd.”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “Remind me why I came with you again.”

“Because you _loooove_ Octavia.”

Clarke’s smile drops from her face and she glances away. Raven’s smile drops, too, and she winces. “Sorry, Clarke, I didn’t think –”

“Don’t worry, Raven. Let’s just go.”

The house is thumping with bass when they arrive. College students pour out onto the lawn, clutching plastic cups of shitty alcohol. Octavia meets them near the front door, talking to a couple of people Clarke has never seen before. Octavia’s kind of like that – she makes friends wherever she goes, and she keeps them for about the same amount of time.

She looks up when Raven calls, and she smiles brightly. That’s the other thing: Octavia’s kind of terrifying when she wants to be, especially since college. She wears leather jackets, is a casual smoker, drives a motorcycle and goes through guys like Clarke goes through assignments. But really she’s so soft, and gentle, and it’s exhilarating to see the way she lights up when she sees Clarke.

Okay – Clarke _and_ Raven, but listen. _Listen._

“Clarke, Raven,” she calls, sidling up to them. She wobbles a bit, which means she’s probably already on her way to drunk. And it’s only 7.30. Great record, Blake. “Let me introduce you to Lincoln.”

Clarke raises her eyebrows. “Sure, O.”

Lincoln is a bulky, tattooed guy who looks like he could absolutely kick Clarke’s butt. Yet when he talks, it’s with a warm, “Hello. Nice to meet you.”

Clarke soon finds that he’s actually kind of adorable. Raven calls him “a teddy bear disguised by biceps”. Clarke can’t really refute that. And the thing is – she _wants_ to hate Lincoln. She really does. She’s done a great job up until now of avoiding Octavia’s boyfriends to the best of her ability, but now –

It’s hard. It’s really hard, for God’s sake.

“So how long have you guys known Octavia?” Lincoln asks, leaning against the wall. He’s the host of the party, and people keep trying to drag him away, but the charming part is he seems pretty determined to stay and actually talk to them.

“I’ve known her since she started senior year,” says Raven, grinning. “But _Griffin_ here was O’s very first friend in our hometown.”

“Yeah, ‘cos O was there when Raven ditched me for freakin’ Finn Collins.”

“Who you went on to _date,_ dumbass.”

Lincoln raises an eyebrow. “Sounds like there’s a story there.”

Raven snorts. Before she can answer, Clarke says, “Maybe when we know you a bit better, Lincoln, uh, my good friend.”

Octavia returns from getting Clarke and Raven drinks. They make small talk for a while more, and then Octavia says to Lincoln, “Hey, did you wanna get some air?”

Lincoln hesitates for a moment, like he doesn’t want to be rude to Clarke and Raven, before he nods and follows her with a rushed goodbye. Octavia winks back at them and disappears out the back door, Lincoln in tow.

“Hey Clarke, that cute hipster over there is giving me eyes, do you want –” Raven’s practically halfway gone already.

Clarke waves her hand. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Clarke finds herself, once again, with absolutely nothing to do. She refills her cup and goes out onto the front lawn, finding herself a wall to lean on and watch the people around her get progressively drunker. It’s about five minutes before she feels a presence next to her and glances to find a gangly pale boy grinning at her expectantly.

“Um,” says Clarke. “Hi.”

“ _Jasper._ Jasper Jordan. You’re Clarke, right?”

“ _Jasper_?” Clarke’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wow, Jasper, you’ve – uh, you’ve changed.”

It’s true. Jasper’s lost some of his awkwardness, his self-consciousness. His skin has cleared up, and he’s chopped his hair to his ears. He’s still a giant fucking nerd, but he kind of makes it look cool. “So have you, Clarke.”

“Hey, was that you O was talking to earlier?”

“Yep.” Jasper’s lips pop on the ‘p’. “She’s in my History lecture. Thought it was funny, y’know, because of prom and everything. She’s super cool now, though – not, you know, that she wasn’t before. Hey, wanna meet the gang?”

“The ‘gang’?”

Jasper leads her over to the group Octavia was talking to when they’d first arrived. One of them, black-haired and cheerful, greets Jasper brightly when they sidle up. “Guys, this is Clarke. We went to high school together. Clarke, that’s Monty.” The cheerful guy nods to her. “The short one is Maya, the glaring one is Indra and the mountain man is Gustus. We’ve got another member, too, but she’s probably making out with her girlfriend by the drinks table or something.”

“Jasper, are you talking badly of us again?” A pretty girl, dark-skinned with curly black hair, walks up behind Jasper.

Jasper snorts. “Never you, Costia. Only Miss Grumpy Pants over there.”

Costia pulls the girl beside her into the circle, and Clarke gets her first look at Lexa Woods. She swallows. Lexa is beautiful, brown hair pulled back from her face, green eyes sharp in the moonlight. She has a red leather jacket on and tight-fitted black jeans. She kind of looks like she might murder Clarke in her sleep, and Clarke might not even complain.

Costia sticks her free hand out. “Hi, I’m Costia.”

Clarke takes the hand, shaking herself out of her daze. “Clarke. Nice to meet you.”

Costia kicks the other girl in the shin and she winces. She nods to Clarke. “Lexa Woods.” Even her voice is nice, smooth but firm. When she grasps Clarke’s hand Clarke feels the cool weight of a signet ring against her skin. It looks very old and very expensive. “How do you know Jasper?”

“High school. Hey, Clarke, where’d your friends go?”

Clarke shrugs. “They had bigger conquests.”

“Aw, that’s okay,” says Maya with a smile while Jasper just snorts. “You can hang out with us. We were going to play beer pong, right, guys?”

“Yeah, and Lexa will absolutely kick our asses at it,” Monty says with a laugh. “You up for it, Clarke Griffin?”

Clarke smiles, and it’s actually not forced. “Yeah. Yeah, bring it on.”

*

Lexa _is_ pretty good at beer pong. Clarke doesn’t really want to go into it, since it’s a little traumatic, but there’s a lot of beer, a lot of pong, and by the end of it Clarke is well on her way to drunk. She may already be there.

Lexa mostly ignores Clarke – not like she doesn’t like her, exactly, but like she doesn’t really care. Clarke gets the feeling that she’s like that with a lot of things, except maybe Costia. Lexa is enamoured with Costia. Clarke thinks it’s sweet, maybe. They’re definitely the most good-looking couple ever (except, maybe, for Octavia and Lincoln, if that ever actually happens).

Midnight finds them sprawled out on the front lawn. Clarke lost her friends several hours ago, but she’s got her head pillowed on Monty’s leg and thinks maybe she’s found others instead.

Jasper props himself up on his elbows and says, slurring a little, “So wha’s your deal, Griff’n?”

Clarke says, “My deal?”

“Yeah, yeah, you know.” He waves a hand as if that explains it. “Big bad secret or whatever. Everybody has one, right? It’s like, initiation into friendship for you to share the skeletons in your closet.”

“That seems a little unfair,” Clarke says to deflect. “You know, just me sharing.”

Jasper snorts. “Fine. Monty, you start.”

Monty shoots him an unimpressed look but says, “My old best friend’s a drug addict. He’s in jail. It’s kind of a Thing, I guess. Every now and then he gets parole and messes things up. You might meet him if you stick around, Clarke.”

“Well, my sister’s a senator, ‘s gonna run for president next term,” says Costia. “Does that count?”

“My parents are part of some religious cult,” says Maya with a shrug. “I don’t talk to them anymore. Not voluntarily, anyway.”

“I actually lived in the mountains for twelve years,” grunts Gustus wryly, and Clarke isn’t sure whether it’s a joke or not. She awkwardly hums and laughs at the same time. She kind of sounds like she’s choking.

Indra glowers at them. She doesn’t really say much, Indra, except to insult people. Clarke thinks it’s _her_ Thing, maybe. “My friends are idiots,” she tells Clarke, and Costia pushes her, laughing.

“What about you, Jasper?” Clarke asks. “What’s your secret?”

Jasper flushes, like he didn’t expect this. “I, uh,” he mumbles. “I don’t really have one. I’m Polish, maybe?”

Clarke would make fun of him for it, but – well. His eyes flit to Monty when Clarke says _secret,_ so Clarke thinks maybe she doesn’t need an answer.

“Come on, Griffin, stop stalling, it’s your turn.”

Even Lexa is looking at her with interest now. Clarke leans back against Monty’s leg. It’s kind of hairy, which should be gross but is kind of weirdly comforting. She is way too drunk.

“I’m in love with my best friend,” she says.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Monty says, “Who –”

He’s interrupted by Octavia’s voice, yelling, “Clarke, if you want an escort home, this is your last chance.”

Clarke snorts and drags herself up. She finds everybody staring at her. “What?”

“I think that answers that question,” says Jasper, raising an eyebrow. “You’re smiling like an idiot. Wow, Clarke, how long?”

“Too long, my friend. Too long.” Clarke brushes herself off. “I’ll see you guys around.”

“Yeah, I’ll get your number off Octavia and text you.” Jasper looks sympathetic. “We could get coffee or something and mull over our woes together.”

Clarke’s lips quirk up, eyes flicking to Monty. “I definitely think we have _something_ in common.”

Jasper smiles wryly.

*

Sunday morning finds Clarke tired and mildly hungover. She wakes up too early at seven thirty, her sleep schedule messed up from finals, and drags herself out of bed after a good half hour of staring at the ceiling. Raven’s still in her room, and Octavia’s sprawled out on their couch. Clarke smiles a little at how calm and harmless she looks against the plush cushions.

She throws back two Advil with some water before she pours two glasses of water and leaves them beside Raven and Octavia. She pulls on an old sweater, jeans and a scarf and faces the world. Outside the air’s bitter, but the sun is out and warm on her face. She walks to the nearest coffee shop, which is blissfully quiet so early.

She takes her coffee to her favourite spot: a bench by the main campus building that looks out over the college’s large pond. It’s cold enough that there’s little bits of frost collecting at the tips of the grass. She sips her coffee and watches the ducks huddle together. Eventually, she brings her sketchbook out of her bag and starts sketching whatever catches her attention: the buildings, the ducks, the pond, a pair of delicate hands –

Wait, what?

“Hey,” she hears. “Wait – hey, Clarke, what’re you doing here?”

Clarke glances up to see Costia walking towards her, books in hand. “Avoiding people,” she says with a small smile.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean –”

“I didn’t mean you.” Clarke nods to the space beside her. “Sit down if you want.”

Costia does so with a relieved sigh. “These books are so heavy. I thought I could get to the library early since it’d be quieter and I woke up early, but I didn’t anticipate how heavy Economics books could be.”

“Is that what you’re studying? Economics?”

Costia shrugs. “At the moment. I don’t really know what I wanna do, so…” She catches sight of Clarke’s open sketchbook. “You draw?”

“Sometimes. I’m not serious about it or anything.”

“Can I see?”

Clarke hesitates, but she doesn’t really see why not. She nods. Costia picks up the sketchbook as if it’s made of glass and flips through the pages. She gets to the most recent drawing and runs her fingertip over the finely sketched hands. “These are beautiful.”

Clarke swallows. “Um, thanks.”

But Costia doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss. She passes the sketchbook back to Clarke and says, “You’re an amazing artist, Clarke. Is that what you’re studying? Art?”

“No, um, medicine.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

“It’s okay. It’s what my mom wants me to do, you know?” Clarke takes a big sip of her coffee, nearly scalding her tongue. She makes a face. “It’s alright.”

Costia is quiet for a moment. “Okay. Hey, we’re going to Jasper and Monty’s for a movie night tonight if you’re up for it. Bring along Raven and Octavia too, if you want.”

“That wouldn’t be imposing?”

“Oh no, we need some new blood.” Costia smiles sweetly, and Clarke thinks maybe she understands what Lexa sees in her. She’s just so – well-meaning and gentle. Clarke feels like Costia’s going to wrap her up in a blanket and make her hot chocolate just to make her smile. “6ish?”

Clarke nods. “I’ll be there.”

Costia flashes a parting smile and picks up her books. “I’ll see you there, Clarke Griffin.” She walks off, hair swinging as she walks. Clarke looks down at the open page, at the hands, reaching out to each other.

And, in the middle of the page, the carefully drawn signet ring, the fingers delicately clasped around it.

*

Clarke arrives at Jasper and Monty’s with Raven and Octavia in tow. Octavia greets Jasper with a comfortable hello. Raven, upon being introduced, narrows her eyes and says, “You’re not criminals, are you?”

“I’m sorry?” asks Monty.

“The last friend Clarke made without us tried to kidnap my cat,” says Octavia, amused. “Raven’s slightly paranoid now.”

Jasper says, “God, what happened to your cat?”

“Oh, don’t worry, Mr Sniffles can look after himself.” Octavia grins. “Let’s just say one person had to get surgery from severe eye trauma, and it wasn’t the cat.”

Monty looks a bit nauseous. Jasper laughs and waves them into the living room. Bowls of chips are set up around a disgruntled Indra. Gustus is sitting on a bean bag and doing a Rubik’s cube. Clarke isn’t really sure who Gustus is or where he came from. The mountains, if he’s to be trusted.

Jesus. And she thought  _they_ were a strange trio.

“Help yourself to food. Want a drink?”

While Jasper gets their drinks, they arrange themselves in the lounge. Raven sits on the bean bag next to Gustus and stares at him with an eyebrow raised. Octavia, inexplicably, gets on fantastically with Indra. Indra actually smiles. Clarke is kind of shocked.

Lexa and Costia arrive just as Jasper returns with their drinks. Costia’s texting, though she gives a cursory hello, and Lexa just slumps onto the sofa beside Clarke. Octavia says, “Introduce us, then, Clarke,” and Clarke tries not to blush.

“Lexa and Costia,” says Clarke, “this is Octavia and Raven.”

Costia waves, still looking down at her phone. Lexa says, “Nice to meet you.” She’s dressed in sweatpants today. Clarke doesn’t know how she manages to pull off sweatpants so well. She tries not to look at the way Lexa’s shirt rides up when she slumps against the armrest.

Maya arrives last. Raven actually knows Maya, from some engineering class or another. Clarke tries to relax into the sofa as Jasper and Raven debate on what to watch.

“What about a horror movie?” offers Raven. “That’d be fun.”

“Monty doesn’t like horror movies,” says Jasper.

“That is a lie,” Indra says. “ _You_ don’t like horror movies, and you always pretend you’re being noble and protecting poor Monty.”

“And he just goes along with it,” Maya adds. “Poor Monty.” She pats him on the head and he leans into it.

They eventually decide on something about killer sheep, because Jasper’s opinion doesn’t count and it looked awesome. Clarke tries not to flinch every time somebody or something gets disembowelled. Lexa looks at her every time she flinches with a small smirk.

It’s nice. It’s – really nice.

She leans back into the cushions and tries not to think about Lexa’s eyes on her.

*

Clarke is on her way to retrieve her early morning coffee on the way to class when she bumps into Lexa a week later. She looks a lot less bleary-eyed than Clarke, dressed in workout gear. Clarke tries not to stare too hard at the way the material hugs her figure. 

“Hey, um, I didn’t know you came here,” says Clarke.

Lexa looks at her. “This is the only coffee shop on campus, Clarke.”

That’s true. That is, uh, definitely true. “Oh. Yep.”

There’s an awkward silence.

“Jogging, huh?”

“Yes,” Lexa says. “I find it therapeutic.”

“Oh,” says Clarke. “Cool.” Clarke would rather drown herself in a large body of water than even walk quickly.

“You think so? You’re welcome to jog with me anytime.”

“Oh yeah,” says Clarke’s mouth, the damn traitor, “that’d be cool.”

_Oh my God._

Lexa actually  _smiles._ “Cool, I usually leave about 7, is that alright with you? I can meet you outside your dorm building.”

Clarke accepts her coffee and nods a little too enthusiastically. “Yeah! Sure! Great! I’m looking forward to it. I gotta go to class now, though, so I’ll see you…”

“Tomorrow at 7.” Lexa smiles as she passes her cash over. “See you, Clarke.”

*

Fuck her, Clarke goes jogging. At 7. Because she's a woman of her word. When she drags herself out of bed, having woken up only five minutes before, Lexa is waiting for her, looking absurdly chirpy for so early.

“Costia hates waking up early,” she confides as Clarke walks up. “It’s great to have somebody to jog with. Gets kinda boring alone, you know?”

Clarke doesn’t really know, since she hasn’t jogged since gym in freshman year. She also usually doesn’t get up until at least 10, but she doesn’t say any of this to Lexa.

“Yeah, it’s great,” says Clarke.

*

Ten minutes later, Lexa says, “You’ve never jogged before in your life, have you?”

“I mean, I probably have,” says Clarke, gasping. “Once or twice. When I was being chased by something, like a rabid bear.”

She’s worried that Lexa’s gonna be mad, but when she looks up there’s a small smile on her face. “We can stop if you want.”

Clarke just wants to see that smile again. “No, no, I wanna do this. Just – go a little slower, okay?”

“Okay,” says Lexa, still smiling. “Try not to die on me, Griffin.”

“I’ll try my very best, for you, Lex,” says Clarke, and spends the next ten minutes worrying about the nickname too much to die.

*

It becomes a thing.

Despite Clarke’s horrid lack of fitness and early mornings, it actually becomes a thing.

*

In early March Octavia and Lincoln start dating. Like,  _officially_ dating. Jasper invites Clarke over to mope and drink a lot, which is exactly what they do. Monty’s on visitation with his drug dealer friend, so it’s just them. Jasper tells Clarke about meeting Monty and thinking  _This is it,_ about the way he’s left it so long he doesn’t think he can ever do it.

And Clarke tells him about the time they were 17 and Octavia kissed Clarke on a dare, about prom, about the way sometimes it hurts so much it feels like a shot to the chest.

The thing is – that makes it sound poetic. But it’s not. It’s gruelling. It’s ridiculous. And the worst part – the worst part of  _all of it –_ is that there’s still a tiny part of her that thinks Octavia will turn to her one day and say, “I can’t hide it anymore, I’m madly in love with you, let’s run away together.”

Octavia is in an  _official relationship._

So yeah, it’s gruelling.

By 9pm, they’re both drunk enough that they’ve actually decided it’s a good idea to re-watch the Twilight movies. They’re barely two minutes in before Jasper starts crying. Clarke stares at him for a long moment and slurs, “It’s not that sad, Jas. She’s just leavin’ town.”

“Not crying over Bella Swan,” he sobs. “’m not – ’m not crying at all.”

Clarke wraps her arms around him and rubs his shoulder. “There, there, you’re okay.”

“I’m gonna tell him,” Jasper says feverently. “I’m gonna – I’m gonna tell him.”

Clarke is drunk enough that she says, “Yeah, Jasper, you do that.”

The door clicks open. Monty takes in the sight before him: Clarke holding a sobbing Jasper, Edward Cullen telling them disturbing things in a deep voice, popcorn strewn around them.

“What,” he says. Then, “What – happened?”

“Jasper is, uh. He’s had a lot to drink.” Clarke tries to stand up and wobbles, falling back over again. Jasper slumps against the sofa and begins to snore. “Come to think of it, I may ‘ave too.” She looks closer at Monty. “Hey – hey, are you okay?”

Monty sits heavily down on one of the beanbags. “I just had a long day, that’s all. Ah, I said I’d take some notes to Costia for the test tomorrow, I completely forgot.” He rubs a hand over his face.

“Don’t worry about it, I can take ‘em,” says Clarke a little too confidently. “It’s fine.”

Monty cracks open an eye. “Are you sure? You don’t seem that – stable.”

“Emotionally? Maybe not. But physically? I can totally –” Clarke pushes herself up and, this time, manages to actually stay on her feet. “See? Absolutely  _fine._ ”

Monty smiles in relief and rushes off to fetch the notes. When he returns he says, “Thank you for this, Clarke. I really appreciate it.”

“Not a problem,” says Clarke, trying her very best not to fall over. “Not. A.  _Problem._  Heeeeey, look after Jasper, okay? He’s precious. Very precious. A beautiful child.” Clarke pats him on the head.

Monty looks at her strangely. “If you weren’t interested in Octavia, I’d think you were hitting on him.”

“Can’t hit on him, he’s  _asleep,_ silly.” Clarke gives him a thumbs up and stumbles to the door. “See ya, Monty!”

“See you,” Monty says, sounding amused. Clarke looks back as she’s leaving and sees Monty sit down beside Jasper on the sofa, running a hand through the boy’s hair. Jasper leans into the touch.

Maybe Jasper doesn’t have anything to worry about, Clarke thinks. She’s smiling as she shuts the door behind her.

*

Monty gives Clarke Costia’s room number, but it still takes her five trips in the elevator before she can actually find her way  _out_ of Monty and Jasper’s dorm building. The cold air works a little to make her feel more sober, and she buys a bottle of water on the way home. By the time she gets to Costia’s, she can actually walk straight.

Well,  _almost._

She walks carefully down the hall to Costia’s dorm and knocks twice. When nobody comes to the door, she knocks again.

 No answer.

She tries the door handle. It’s unlocked.

She gathers the notes in her arms and sticks her head around the door. The bedroom door’s shut, so she calls out, “Costia? You here?”

There’s a thump, and a very male yelp. Clarke freezes. The bedroom door cracks open to reveal Costia, covered only by a towel, eyes wide. Clarke stares at her for a long moment. Costia stares back.

Finally, Costia says, “What’re you doing here?”

“Notes,” croaks Clarke. “From Monty. He said you wanted –”

Costia’s expression softens. “Oh yeah, of course. Just leave them on the table, thanks.”

Clarke does so. She moves to leave, but hears another thump. She eyes Costia. “Are you alright in there?”

“Yep, absolutely, I’ve just got,” Costia begins, and a male voice says, “Cos, Indra just texted me, I gotta go.”

Clarke says, “Oh my God,” as Gustus bursts from the room and pushes past her into the hall. Even after he’s gone, the door shutting behind him, Clarke repeats, “Oh my  _God._ ”

“Clarke,” says Costia, “this isn’t what you think.”

“What else could it  _be_? Oh my God, Costia, how could you cheat on Lexa?”

“I didn’t, we’re broken up,” Costia blurts.

Clarke stops. “What?”

“It was – this afternoon. We broke up, Clarke.”

“Because of Gustus?”

“It wasn’t a thing, not until now,” says Costia in a rush. “Gustus told me how he felt, not assuming or anything, and I – I realised how I felt, and I didn’t want Lexa to get hurt.”

“Didn’t waste any time though, did you,” says Clarke coldly.

“Clarke –”

“Forget it.” Clarke shakes her head. “I’ll see you around, Costia.” She slams the door shut behind her and immediately gets her phone out.  _need lex’s dorm no,_ she texts Jasper.

 _u heard abt the breakup? She only just told me._ He lists off the number.  _She might bite ur head off tho._

_that’s okay. thanks jasper._

It’s a short ten minute walk to Lexa’s dorm, even with the detour. Once she gets into the building – by bribing one of her human anatomy classmates to let her in – she bangs on Lexa’s door, arms laden down with shopping bags.

“What do you want,” says the door.

“Let me in, Lex,” Clarke orders. “I brought contingency supplies.” The door opens a little more and Clarke slips through before Lexa can close it. “We’re gonna survive this zombie apocalypse together, Woods.”

Lexa stares at her. She looks adorable in her oversized shirt and sweatpants, but that’s just. An inappropriate thought right now. She just went through a  _break-up._ Sensitive. Clarke can be sensitive.

“I’d hardly compare a break-up to a zombie apocalypse,” Lexa says, but she looks like she might be fighting a smile.

“Whatever, party pooper.” Clarke drops the bag onto the lounge table. “We’re going to need spoons and, like, maybe water. I don’t know.”

Lexa looks at her for a long moment before she shakes her head and goes off into the kitchen.

“Where’s your roommate anyway?” Clarke calls. “I don’t think I’ve ever met them.”

“Her name’s Anya. She spends most of her time at boyfriend’s, so she’s not really around that much.”

“She’s nice though?”

“Yes. We are good friends.” Lexa returns with spoons and two bottles of water. “Where did you hear anyway? It only happened two hours ago.”

“Um,” Clarke says. She doesn’t really feel any particular desire to protect Costia, but she doesn’t want Lexa to get even more hurt. Save that for another day. “I have reliable sources.” She pulls out two tubs of ice cream and places them on the table, followed by two bottles of vodka. “I stole these off Octavia, she won’t mind.”

Lexa raises an eyebrow. “So what’s the water for?”

“It’s always good to stay hydrated, Lexa, you should know that. Hey, turn the TV on, will you?”

Lexa does. She goes to Netflix without prompting, flicking through the movies until she settles on something about spies. “Why would I know to stay hydrated? Specifically me?”

“Because you’re a physical fitness major or something, right?”

Lexa stares at her. “I’m a history major.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

Clarke stares right back. “I’ve never asked you what you’re studying?”

“You’re usually a little busy with, you know.” Lexa waves a hand. “Pining over Octavia.”

Clarke glowers at her. “You are not nice.”

“Neither is your whining.” Still, she’s grinning. She accepts both a tub of ice cream and a bottle of vodka. “Thanks, Clarke. I  _guess._ ”

Clarke shakes her head. “I am not appreciated.” 

“Oh, on the contrary,” says Lexa. “I appreciate you just fine.”

Clarke looks away, flushing.  _No._ The girl just broke up with her girlfriend. Clarke is not going to be That Person.

They get drunk and watch James Bond fuck up and have lots of sex. Like Clarke’s life, really, but without the sex. She says this to Lexa halfway through the movie, and apparently Lexa is drunk enough that she laughs until she nearly falls off the sofa.  

The movie ends, and another plays automatically. Clarke sinks into the sofa in a comfortable haze of drunkenness, and her head drops to Lexa’s shoulder. Lexa pets her and she lets out a noise not unlike a purr.

“Did you just purr?”

“Shut the hell up.”

*

Their morning jogs continue. As the weeks pass, Lexa begins to look less like she’s not sleeping and more normal again. They don’t talk about the night, and Clarke doesn’t tell Lexa what she saw. Lexa doesn’t even know about Gustus, as far as Clarke can tell. And it sucks. Clarke doesn’t want to have that responsibility on her.

There’s another party, this one held by some friend of Octavia’s. Everybody goes, and Maya comes over before to get ready with them. Clarke wears a short tight dress, her best heels, and finds a black cardigan to drape over the top. It’s warming up outside, but it’s still fresh.

Octavia looks at her and her eyebrows shoot up. Recently Clarke’s feelings have been subdued, with Octavia being with Lincoln so much, but suddenly they come surging to the surface.

“Clarke, you look gorgeous,” she says, fixing up a strand of Clarke’s hair. “I would absolutely do you.”

Clarke snorts. “You would, huh?”

“If there was any girl in the world I could fall in love with, sweetheart,” she says, “it would undoubtedly be you.”

And man, that  _hurts._ Clarke tries to laugh, but she can’t bring herself to, so there’s just an awkward silence while Octavia smiles at her and she says nothing at all. Raven breaks the silence when she comes out, says, “You bitches ready?” and finds them staring at each other in silence.

“Oh,” says Maya, nearly running into the back of Raven. “Did we miss something?”

There’s this  _look_ in Octavia’s eyes – confused, gentle, and a little heartbreaking. Clarke swallows and turns away. “Not at all. Let’s go.”

Nobody mentions the incident on the way there, which Clarke is grateful for. Octavia finds Lincoln immediately and invites Clarke to play some dumbass game with Lincoln’s friends, but Clarke shakes her head. She sends the others after them when they arrive, but Lexa elects to stay with Clarke.

They sit on the porch in quiet as everybody roars with laughter inside. Finally, Lexa says, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine, it’s just. It’s stupid.”

“Is it an Octavia thing?”

Clarke shrugs and runs a hand over her face. “I tried so hard – all this time I’ve tried so  _hard_ to be this person she could love. I always wanted to be better so I’d be good enough for O, and I couldn’t understand why she didn’t want me back.” Her voice cracks. “It was so stupid. So stupid. You can’t just change somebody’s mind like that. How could I be this stupid, Lex?”

“Hey,” Lexa says, pulling Clarke to her, and it’s the gentlest Clarke has ever heard her speak. “It is not your fault, Clarke. You were brave to love her.”

“I don’t feel brave.”

“But you were.” Lexa presses her lips to Clarke’s forehead. “There’s never something wrong with trying to love somebody, Clarke. Just because she might not feel the same way doesn’t make it any less worth it."

“I,” Clarke says, and swallows. “Listen, Lexa, I –”

But Lexa isn’t looking at her. She’s looking at something over Clarke’s shoulder, and Clarke’s stomach drops. She whips her head around to find Octavia standing at the door behind them. She wants to ask how long she’s been there, but the look on her face says  _long enough._

Lexa stands wordlessly and goes inside, shutting the front door behind her. Clarke drops her face into her hands and drags in a long breath.

“Clarke,” says Octavia. “I –”

Clarke shakes her head. She stands, contemplates bolting, then settles for pacing instead. “No, O, please. I can’t – I don’t need to hear it.”

“I didn’t know, Clarke. If I’d known…”

“You would have, what?” Clarke looks at her imploringly. “Let me down easy? I knew, deep down, that you could never love me like that, but I  _hoped._ God, I hoped. And it was stupid. It was so –”

She swallows and turns away. Octavia strides down the steps and grips her by the shoulders, stilling her. Clarke looks away, refusing to make eye contact.

“Clarke,” she says. “Clarke, look at me.”

After a beat, Clarke gives up and looks at her. She sees what she’s always seen – Octavia’s hazel eyes, too knowing and too sharp, the small smile of her mouth.

“I love you,” she says. “So much. If there was anybody in the world – if I could make myself –”

Clarke is already shaking her head. “I don’t want that, O. I don’t want some pity thing. I never wanted that.”

Octavia looks defeated. “I’m sorry, Clarke. I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks,” Clarke says. “It’s not – I mean, it’s whatever, but thanks.” She turns away. “I think I’m just gonna go home.”

“Will you be okay?”

Clarke smiles, and is proud of how much it doesn’t shake. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

And maybe she’s lying and maybe she’s not, but she walks home in the cold and stares numbly at the dark street before her. She waits until she locked inside her room before she lets the first sob escape, and it’s the most terrible, broken thing.

She pads into the kitchen a while later in search of food, sniffling, and finds Lexa’s sweater thrown over the chair. She must have left it behind after breakfast the other day. Clarke stares at it for a long moment before she throws it over her shirt, burrowing in. It smells cosy and comforting, like lilies and fresh rain.

And if she curls up on the sofa and cries herself to sleep in it, well – nobody has to know.

*

She sleeps through her alarm the next morning and misses not only jogging, but also two classes. She wakes up around 1pm to knocking on the door and crawls out of bed. There’s a note from Raven, saying only  _Text me if you need me. Back from class at 4. Sorry, Griffin x_

When she opens the door Lexa’s standing there. She has a bag slung over her shoulder and a book in her hand. “Hey,” she says. “I just came from class, sorry I couldn’t come sooner.”

Clarke smiles despite herself. “That’s okay, I just woke up. Sorry I missed our morning date.”

Lexa raises an eyebrow. “It’s a date now, is it?” She puts the books down on the dining table and slings the bag on a chair. “What happened last night? Octavia wouldn’t talk to anyone, not even Lincoln.”

Clarke sighs. She motions for Lexa to follow her into her bedroom and collapses on the bed. Lexa perches herself on the end. She fills Lexa in on the details and Lexa’s quiet for a while.

“How do you feel?” she asks eventually.

“Relieved,” she says, not realising its truth until she says it out loud. “But – I don’t think it was as bad as it could have been, you know? I think. I think I was getting over it even before then.”

“That’s great, Clarke.”

Clarke nods, then she remembers Costia. She turns her head so she can see Lexa and says, “Listen, the day I found out about you and Costia – I walked in on her with Gustus. That’s how I knew.”

Lexa doesn’t really look as surprised as Clarke had expected. “Yeah, I figured. It was something we’d argued about for a long time. I knew she had feelings for him, but I did not want to face it. We were equally guilty in that way, I suppose.”

Clarke frowns. “None of that was your fault,” she says, maybe a little too forcefully.

“Maybe.” Lexa’s lips quirk up. “Sorry about Octavia, Clarke.”

“ _That_ wasn’t your fault either.” Clarke shrugs, pushing herself into a sitting position. She knocks her knee with Lexa’s. “It’s okay, I guess. I think I cried it out last night, a little.”

Lexa says, “You shouldn’t have to go through that.”

“None of us should have to, really. But it’s okay. It doesn’t even really hurt that much anymore.”

Clarke looks at Lexa, and Lexa’s smiling softly, and. It hits Clarke all at once. Her eyes drop to Lexa’s lips, soft and pink. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips.  _Damn._

 “I’ve – got to go,” she blurts, suddenly jumping to her feet. “I have class.”

She bolts out, leaving her wallet and books behind. Only her phone is tucked into her back pocket. She rushes down the stairs until she’s out in the sunlight, and then she drags in air like she’s drowning.

Maybe the reason it doesn’t hurt so much is because she’s already falling in love with somebody else.

*

Lexa leaves it a week before Clarke gets a text.  _come over for pizza at 5? anya is out_

She deliberates making excuses, but Raven glowers at her, giving Clarke the impression that she will fully kick Clarke out of the house if she has to. So Clarke dresses in a pair of jeans and pearl sweater and tries not to think very much at all as she walks to Lexa’s. Lexa meets her outside and lets her in, and there’s a very long awkward silence as Clarke kind of hovers while Lexa looks for her phone.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke blurts out eventually. “I shouldn’t have freaked out on you.”

Lexa looks up from looking up pizza choices on her phone. “Clarke –”

“No, let me talk,” she says. “It was stupid. And unfair to you. I just – everything happened with Costia, and then with Octavia, and you were in front of me and. You were  _there,_ and I couldn’t – I couldn’t handle it.”

Lexa frowns and puts down her phone. She walks around the sofa to Clarke, and Clarke can’t help but take an unconscious step away. Lexa looks a little hurt, but she stays where she is. “I just do not understand  _why,_ Clarke. I thought we were friends, right?”

“We were,” says Clarke. “I mean,  _we are._ It’s just –”

“It’s just what?”

“I’m in love with you,” Clarke blurts out, and kisses her.

Lexa is frozen for a moment, as if she really did not foresee this. Then she melts into Clarke, running a hand up Clarke’s neck and knotting in her hair. She pushes her back until Clarke’s back hits the wall. Something hits the floor, but neither of them pay any attention. Lexa’s tongue touching hers is electrifying, like nothing she’s ever felt – not with Finn, not even with Octavia – and she feels like she’s burning up.

Finally, Lexa pulls back for breath. She doesn’t move far, resting her forehead against Clarke’s.

“I didn’t think,” she breathes. “After Octavia…”

“Yeah, neither did I. Funny how these things work.” Clarke can’t help but smile, and Lexa kisses the corner of her mouth. “I’m sorry for running away from you.”

“I think it’s pretty obvious that I’ve accepted your apology." Lexa smiles softly. Then, "Um, the pizza guy has been on the other end of the line for the last five minutes, do you know what you want?”

Clarke laughs, and. It’s not perfectly cinematic, it’s not like anything she imagined with Octavia. She didn’t really get the amazing happily ever after she wanted, but –

Maybe this is just as good.  

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at dontholdthiswarinside.tumblr.com. Hit me up, cry with me over these nerds.
> 
> Black Sheep is an honest-to-god real movie that is on (Australian) Netflix. I watched 20 minutes of it with my friend; good luck with the other 90.


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